


too many hits off this memory

by xerampelinae



Series: pull the blackout curtains down [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, alternate universe - no earth invasion, playing fast and loose with canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 21:36:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16071830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xerampelinae/pseuds/xerampelinae
Summary: “What--what about you Keith?” Lance asks suspiciously. “You wear pajamas? Right?“Lance,” Keith says, with a placid expression. Lance can feel the regret gathering. “I wear my pajamas like I wear my underwear: I don’t.”“Damn it all,” Iverson says, appearing behind Lance and clearly regretting it.“Holy god,” Pidge says, moaning into the cafeteria table. “That means Shiro doesn’t wear pajamas either.”-In which the Galaxy Garrison suffers after the Paladins return to Earth.





	too many hits off this memory

The Garrison, once it’s stopped freaking out about the Paladins and tried to forcible sedate them for weeklong quarantines--Keith gets that look in his eyes that he has when Shiro is in danger and everyone in an NBC suit plus Iverson takes a quick step back and decides that quarantine is No Longer An Issue--issues each of them statements of their affairs and forcibly nominates Commander Chan to answer any questions on logistics.

They all have Accidental Death And/Or Dismemberment Policy pay-outs, which is something that none of them really want to think about. It was the kind of policy that, to young adults, was both surreal and not to be declined.

“Due to the circumstances,” Chan says, expressionless, “the Garrison will not pursue the refund of those pay-outs.”

“Whoa,” says Lance, looking at what amounts to his bank statement. Then he looks over at Keith’s statement, wrinkling where Keith grips the paper. “Buddy, that’s--that’s a lot of money. You had this money and you lived in a shack?”

Keith’s hand shakes for a moment before he gets enough control to slide the statement--of their combined household affairs--across the table to Shiro, who instead has a pile of Sorry We Pronounced You Dead And Used You As A Scapegoat Because Aliens paperwork instead.

“It was blood money,” Keith says, standing.

“Keith?” Shiro says, brow creasing and face broadcasting concern.

“I just need a moment,” Keith says, and dips to press a fond kiss to Shiro’s mouth. “Keep reading.”

Shiro nods, and obeys. Keith’s back is straight when he leaves, shoulders broad and imposing in his Paladin’s armor. The space wolf keeps pace at his side; a clear enough warning if Keith’s expression isn’t enough. Back-up, if it’s necessary.

Shiro lets the door shut all the way before he lets his face transform into tranquil fury. “Commander Chan,” he says, and everyone’s hackles go straight up. Chan starts to sweat. “Where’s the life insurance pay-out to my husband?”

-

The Paladins look at the clothes the Garrison offers them. It’s a question of balance: is it worth leaving their armor (comfortable but overdue for a wash cycle) for the stiff collars and lines of officer and cadet uniforms?

“No offense,” Hunk says, staring down at the allocated uniform in his hands, “but did anyone else have stress dreams over uniform inspections? I feel like I’m having one now.”

“Full offense,” Pidge says, “but yes. Also? Isn’t it, I don’t know, mixed signals to drag an alien princess and her butler mechanic guy into cadet’s uniforms?”

“Uh, yeah,” Lance says. “That’s totally weird.”

Keith refuses the uniform Iverson tries to press on him. “Not a representative of the Galaxy Garrison, thanks,” Keith says, almost bored-sounding.

“Cadet--” Iverson says sharply.

“I’m not,” Keith says, clean-cutting as the edge on his knife, eyes steady on Iverson’s single eye. “Remember? You may have discharged me under my unmarried name, but legally I am the same person.”

“Mm,” Pidge says. “ _That’s_ why they want Allura and Coran in cadet uniforms.”

“That makes sense,” Hunk says, “try to attach the public support of Voltron to the Garrison.”

“No, thank you,” Shiro says as he declines the officer’s uniform with a glint in his eye. “I’m still dead.”

“What,” Iverson grinds out.

“Legally dead, that is,” Shiro says, grinning sharply in a way that communicates precisely zero warmth. “Definitely not haunting the tightfisted persons refusing to providing support to my surviving spouse and heir of my estate.”

-

“So, what did you tell our families after we disappeared?” Pidge asks. Mostly she’s wondering what he told her mom, after they figured out she was a Holt. Colleen Holt was a force of nature by herself.

Iverson crosses himself. Pidge, Hunk, and Lance startle.

“I, uh, I didn’t think you were religious, sir,” Hunk says.

“There are no atheists in foxholes,” Iverson says, eye haunted. He says nothing more.

“Holy god, mom,” Pidge whispers. “What did you to break him?”

“It’s probably better we don’t know,” Matt whispers back.

-

 _“Nobody mention the clone thing,”_ Lance hisses when they have a moment’s aside. “We do not need the Garrison arguing whether it counts as Keith and Shiro still being married.”

“Understood,” Hunk and Pidge say, saluting in the way that started as a joke and now they're all rolling with. Romelle is too cute and joyful with the way she confusedly copies Earth mannerisms.

“Wait,” Hunk says, turning back into their huddle. “What if we put it as just having been, you know, _mostly dead._ People come back from being mostly dead all the time.”

They ponder this for a moment before turning to Pidge for her decision. “Hmmm,” she says. “Let’s clear it with Shiro first. But honestly, who would argue with becoming the Dread Pirate Roberts?”

“I don’t know,” Hunk says. “Maybe Shiro’s more of a Buttercup sort of guy. It’s a confusing dynamic to translate.”

“Motion sustained,” Pidge says, and Lance nods with confused agreeability.

-

In the end, everyone follows Keith’s suit and dresses in PT uniforms after their showers.

“Hm,” Keith says, and then one night Keith and Shiro break out of the Garrison. No one notices until they realize that Shiro and Keith are wearing relatively normal clothing--civilian clothes.

“Is--is that?” they hear Commander Chan whisper to Commander Ryu.

“Oh my god,” Matt Holt gasps.

“Shirogane,” Iverson says thunderously. “What are you wearing?”

Both of them look up at that. Keith’s in Shiro’s old clothes, including the Accidental Sex Symbol (acronym unanimously deliberate; it does highlight the feature, after all) motorcycle jacket Shiro wore before the Kerberos mission when he was 75 percent the beefcake he is now, as well as some very tight pants. Under the jacket is a low-scooped shirt that lovingly cups Keith’s new musculature and reveals the strong lines of his neck and collarbones. It’s a basic outfit, but well-implemented.

“We thought it’d be impossible for anyone to look half as good as Shirogane in that outfit,” Chan whispers. “This is dangerous. That outfit has too much power.”

Shiro, on the other hand, is in what looks like part of a firefighter’s uniform--and not just any firefighter, but one of the uniforms formerly used by Garrison firefighters--except it’s so snug on his new Captain America Proportion Muscles that it’s almost hard to look at.

“Clothing, sir,” Shiro says nonplussedly.

“You look like a goddamn stripper, Shirogane,” Iverson says. “Take it off.”

The room goes silent as everyone realizes what Iverson’s just said.

“No,” Keith says, leaning around Shiro’s back to stare Iverson down. The new length of his hair and the sharp arc of his scar-- _scars,_ they realize when the jacket collar shifts and reveals a clean slice along his shoulder--leave looking at Keith an almost otherworldly experience. Then his collar bares more of the opposite shoulder and the edge of a hickey becomes visible. 

That’s a topic no one’s ready to touch, not even those veteran teachers of hormone-driven adolescents and young adults. No one wants to discuss the sexual activities of the hometown heroes who are ostensibly defenders of the para-known universe. Even Shirogane’s past neighbors--even those who had lived beside him during his previous long term relationship--don’t know the details of his sex life.

“Well, yeah,” the siblings Holt say when questioned. “As long as you steer clear of their private quarters, you shouldn’t see them in action. You know.”

“You mean--” Commander Chan says, exchanging a look with Commander Ryu and then performing an acrobatic series of eyebrow movements in lieu of explicitly stating a question.

 _“Yes,”_ the Holts say, and puzzlingly, “Locks are hard on alien space ships. _Thank God euphemisms are a thing here.”_

-

“Psst,” Pidge whispers. “Matt, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Jailbreak with the team to get some street clothes?” Matt whispers back.

“I mean, I was thinking about picking up copies of all the anime we missed while we were gone in case we have to go back to space really quickly again,” Pidge says, “but hell yeah.”

“Oh, that too,” Matt says, then whisper-shouts. “Form Voltron.”

“This is weird,” Lance hisses as he and Hunk approach.

“Yeah, we don’t actually say that outside of the lions,” Hunk says.

“Oh.”

-

The next day, Shiro and Keith spar in the gym, gathering a crowd. Quite a few of the officers and instructors gather as word spreads. It’s a graceful fight, almost dance-like. Mesmerizing.

“How long have they been going?” Commander Ryu asks one of the officers.

“Ten minutes,” the officer says distractedly. Keith and Shiro exchange a series of blows that end in Shiro throwing Keith back across the mats, laughing as Keith’s grasp drags his shirt off.

“Really, Keith?” Shiro says. There’s no bite to his words.

“Between two options, I figured you’d prefer having your spare shirt preserved,” Keith says, like it’s a perfectly reasonable action to undress your opponent in the course of a spar, tossing the shirt clear of the ring.

“My wardrobe thanks your consideration,” Shiro says, and straightens.

Everyone with a clear line of sight to Shiro’s back chokes. Shallow scores mark Shiro up, here and there, across his broad shoulders.

“If that’s a commentary on his sexual performance,” Cadet Liefsdottir notes dryly, “Pilot Shirogane’s mission log indicates he has demonstrated competency to mastery.”

“Three Michelin stars,” Cadet Rizavi says. “That body is a feast and nobody leaves starving.”

“That would be a mixed metaphor, Nadia,” Liefsdottir says, but agreeably returns to watching the spar with her squadmate.

-

There’s no sober explanation for the time Iverson and Keith spar. It ends on the floor with Keith executing a thigh choke that no one can extract the origin of from Keith.

“Sometimes I think he’s some kind of superhero,” Hunk says. “I mean, we all kind of reached a different level once we met the Lions and started literally fighting for our lives. But you know, Keith is, _you know.”_

“Oh, he’s certainly something,” Lance says, but without much heat, and Hunk pats his back because he’s definitely feeling better about the state of the universe now. There are some ambient sexual crises occurring in the background, but that’s consistent with the old days at the Garrison. They were a regular occurrence in previous years: adoring sighs and chatter after the first times each year incoming students met Competent and Beautiful Pilot Cosmonaut Shirogane.

Even Keith had been known to cause a few crises: he had a youthful, mysterious boy band member sort of aura, better when he was around Shirogane’s moderating influence and could be seen to be _awkward_ over antagonistic. Coming back from space, Keith looked like some higher power had looked and picked up a brush simply for the sake of making him even more beautiful.

“There’s kind of a lot going on,” Cadet Rizavi said, watching Iverson yield the round and insist on another. Keith cocked his head with an expression of confusion, mild concern, and enduring concentration. He met Shiro’s encouraging gaze--mutual fondness was the common consensus, with a hint of pride from Shirogane--before the next round began and Keith caught Iverson in a triangle hold.

“Paladin Shirogane appears to be shortening each successive round by one to two seconds overall,” Cadet Liefsdottir notes. “His physical endurance is impressive.”

-

“Shiro,” Lance says, voice wobbling dangerously. “Please, tell me the truth.”

Shiro quirks an eyebrow but tilts his head encouragingly.

“I’ve never seen you in pajamas,” Lance says, “but you wear them, right?”

“No, Lance,” Shiro says easily. “I don’t wear pajamas.”

Lance gasps in shock. The others are silent, waiting for the metaphorical beat to drop. “You--you wear your clothes to bed? Tell me you’re not wearing your Paladin armor to bed!”

“I’m not wearing my armor to bed,” Shiro says. Lance looks to Keith for confirmation.

“He doesn’t,” Keith says, meeting Lance’s eyes. “And neither do I.”

“Oh,” Hunk says with a small voice.

Matt laughs. “Oh, Shiro, this is like that time we found out you don’t wear underwear.”

“It’s comfortable,” Shiro says nonchalantly.

“Well yeah, maybe before someone mentioned it in front of Iverson, but what about after?” Matt asks.

“What the fuck,” Pidge says. “Matt, you dick, we were blissfully ignorant of that.”

“Oh,” Matt says, blinking.

“What--what about you Keith?” Lance asks suspiciously. “You wear pajamas? Right?

“Lance,” Keith says, with a placid expression. Lance can feel the regret gathering. “I wear my pajamas like I wear my underwear: I don’t.”

“Damn it all,” Iverson says, appearing behind Lance and clearly regretting it.

“Holy god,” Pidge says, moaning into the cafeteria table. “That means Shiro doesn’t wear pajamas either.”

“I hate you all,” Hunk says. “I mean, I don’t, but right now I kind of really do.”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to,” Shiro says cheerily.

-

“You may know me as Pilot Cosmonaut Shirogane,” Shiro says at the press teleconference that the Garrison reluctantly holds, so effortlessly charismatic that the Paladins have their hands hovering ready to summon their bayards. “I am currently attached to Voltron. Reports of my death were prematurely exaggerated.”

There’s a pause while the assembled officers and reporters take this in--not even whispering amidst the ranks to debate this, but stunned into silence. It might be the white hair and the scarring; they leave Shiro ethereal and even more devastatingly handsome than he had been before. Shiro could probably say he was an immortal or had otherwise lived ten thousand years and be believed. Pidge is slightly jealous; if she tried that, she’d be (rightly) taken as a gremlin. Not that the others could really do much better.

“Sir,” one reporter asks. “Uh, if you could, could you introduce your team.”

“Of course,” Shiro says guilelessly. “My second in command, Paladin Shirogane.”

The uproar over that introduction crashes the server and halts any further questions and introductions. 

“No comment,” the Galaxy Garrison states in its press release.

-

“Shiro, I love you,” Keith says in an undertone that may or may not accidentally on purpose be picked up by the microphone, “but what kind of motherfucker gets abducted by aliens from outer space?”

“I love you too, honey,” Shiro says absently. “It was a weird time for me too.”

Iverson all but punches himself in front of a full assembly of reporters in the process of slapping a hand over his remaining eye. Media outlets had converged to demand information on the weird robotic lion statue performance art that had descended through the atmosphere, fought a series of alien craft far beyond the description of ‘unidentified foreign object,’ and subsequently parked neatly and without comment outside of the Galaxy Garrison’s Colorado base.

“The weirdest,” Pidge says. Lance sighs audibly, nodding visibly.

“Oh,” Hunk gasps with dramatic but false surprise. “Guys, our mics are on.”

“Our apologies,” Shiro says, loosing one of those distracting grins he has. The reporters quiet as they feel the effects of it. Hunk can see a couple of them fanning themselves.

-

One day Shiro finds the keys to his old car. The fond look he exchanges with Keith has the Paladins Plus (i.e., all Paladins not actively involved with Unspeakable Shenanigans as well as Coran, the Princess, and sundry aliens who are present; this number has historically included the Blades of Marmora participating in Voltron missions) taking cover. This means that when Iverson enters the Garrison Command Center, only Garrison personnel are present.

“Where are they?” Iverson gruffs out, instinct kicking up with the apparent absence of predators.

“Pilot and Paladin Shirogane have departed on R&R, sir,” the duty sergeant says.

Suspicion heightens. “Get me eyes on them,” Iverson snaps, and obedient choruses of _yessir_ ring out.

-

State of the art imaging means that it’s the work of moments to locate Shiro’s car moving on the desert road that leads to town. Based on the heat signature--overlapping, not a single amorphous being, which was a horrifying thought that momentarily entertained some unfortunate cannibalistic theories in the Command Center--Shiro is driving and Keith is pressed close to him, hand to his knee.

The car slows as it reaches town, pulling into a parking lot. Shiro and Keith disembark in variants of their widely-contested outfits.

It’s a voyeuristic view--and apparently one that can be sensed, by the way Keith raises his hand and flips off the satellite the Garrison is using. His hand moves in an odd blur as it moves through the American Sign Language alphabet to spell out _V-O-Y-E-U-R._

Someone coughs, just to break the awkward silence.

“They’re going to Aunty’s Diner, sir,” an ensign reports. 

_Just like everybody else with a handful of money and a desire to eat something outside of the Garrison cafeteria,_ almost everyone thinks but refuses to verbalize in front of Iverson.

“There’s a 95.5 percent chance that they are embarking on a date, sir,” Cadet Leifsdottir reports. “Clear skies with minor cloud presence and the availability of food and beverage support this conclusion.”

“I should have taken the medical retirement,” Iverson mutters, squeezing his cap. 

-

“Dear god,” say no few officers when the Galran fleet finally reaches Earth on the tail of Voltron, “ _thank you.”_

The world saw Voltron appear and take on a cruiser on a scouting mission--in high definition and surround sound, given appropriately installed media devices--but to see Voltron form is something different. With the downtime, it was easy to forget that the Paladins were experienced combatants albeit ones who, for the most part, still technically considered cadets.

With the world watching, the Garrison didn’t have to pretend to be in control of five persons embodying the independent, boundary-pressing fighter pilots; all the Garrison needed to do was to cooperate as they truthfully were with five pilots of indeterminate mortality and their hyper-advanced and semi-autonomous spaceships, and the remainder of their party, all of whom were both sentient and extra-terrestrial in origin.

It was a lot to swallow, but the Garrison was doing its level best and repressing all that it could.

“Maybe they’ll go back to space?” Commander Hedrick whispers to Iverson when they’ve turned out the office lights and hidden so that errant students, media representatives, Paladins, and all other avoidable parties can’t find them. It’s after hours and they’re both armed with an inadvisable double of scotch. “You know, now that they’ve successfully defended the Earth?”

“Maybe you’re that lucky,” Iverson whispers back, staring into his scotch. “But I’m not. Ever since Shirogane brought his protege--I knew _he_ was trouble the day I saw his records and Shirogane plead his case, but I never knew he would be this much or this kind of trouble.”

“None of us did,” Hedrick says with his own hollow-eyed stare into Iverson’s scotch. They’re under the desk so it’s actually quite close quarters. The things they do for a moment’s peace. “We thought--we thought Shirogane would straighten him out. Make him regulation neat.”

“He did,” Iverson admits. “We forgot Shirogane was a fighter pilot before we put him in that shuttle. Marrying him--that’s a straight fighter pilot move.”

“Think the aliens have more responsive deities?” Hedrick asks hopefully. Iverson finishes his scotch instead of answering.

-

“Oh, no,” Commander Holt says when asked in the morning. He is one of the few officers unbothered by the recent turmoil; he is on the bad side of precisely zero of the Paladins and their cohort, and in fact is treated quite favorably by them. He is also on the good side of Colleen Holt, who is a force unto herself. “You must remember, the Castle of Lions was destroyed in events that are not quite clear; the Paladins will likely remain on Earth until a replacement can be constructed.”

This time, when Iverson crosses himself, he’s mirrored by Hedrick.

“I’m looking forward to spending time with everyone,” Holt continues obliviously to the turmoil around him. “I’m quite looking forward to spending time with everyone--they’re good kids, you know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Fall Out Boy's "Hold Me Tight (Or Don't)"  
> This is a weird day for me and I'm in kind of a weird place mentally, so here's the next installment. This one's for my brother who's living his best life sans underwear and who has had some ancedotes that inspired some of the shenanigans: bro, you're totally valid. Anyways, fun fact: I think? I'm on my second Accidental Death Or Dismemberment policy. For more weird facts and talking about Voltron, I'm over on tumblr as xerampelinaekiss


End file.
